


Controlled Chaos

by TwoCatsTailoring



Series: Post-Dawn [8]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Camping, Children of Characters, F/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 05:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19419571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoCatsTailoring/pseuds/TwoCatsTailoring
Summary: A peaceful camping trip shattered by the brood next-camp? Maybe. But maybe not.





	Controlled Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my shameless excuse to indulge in summertime fic writing.

The family that moved in to the campsite next door to theirs was initially cause for grave concern. Both he and his husband had given each other A Look, shaking their heads mournfully at the hopes for a quiet end to their week in the woods, away from the hurry and noise of the city. Not that either of them had a problem with families in general, but this one in particular seemed to spill out of their car like some kind of sideshow act.

Before the car had even been turned off, the first child was out of the back seat in a blur of violently red hair and shoes that lit up, setting course for the bushes where she spent the first five minutes retching loudly. Once finished, she’d caught her breath and rejoined her family, nodding and smiling when her mother paused in unloading the car to check on her. 

But she was just the first. After her came an older girl with hair black as night and an expression to match, backpack slung over one shoulder and outfit planned without thought to the fact that black clothes made camping hotter (as did long sleeves and denim.) A pair of ginger-haired, grubby, bookend-twins followed, tumbling out and immediately beginning to dig in the dirt with small plastic shovels. Then came a small girl with dark hair that was the exact opposite of her older sister, clad in a bathing suit printed like a lemon slice, swim flippers, a diving mask and snorkel, and a floatie ring that appeared to be some sort of impossibly colored sea-bird.

If nothing else, that one was prepared for the lake. She was also intercepted by the father (if the hair and skintone were any judge) as she attempted to make a break for the water by herself. He was quite the sight as well - a hulking mass of a man covered in tattoos who was every bit as huge as the mother was tiny. She barely stood 3 inches taller than the oldest of her children but did not seem to lack in strength as she hauled tent parts into the clearing.

It seemed she also had this brood of… how many was it again? Five? All girls? Shiva’s tits, that was a lot of children… well under control and after several minutes of complete chaos had even the truculent preteen involved in setting up camp. It was still chaotic as far as the two of them were concerned - chaotic, noisy, and not what they’d had in mind at all - but they could appreciate a born manager when they saw one.

And as the day wore on, the pair of them - here for the peace of the lake and the fresh air of the woods - found their attention almost constantly drawn to their neighboring camp. For all the noise, it wasn’t constant or as awful as they thought it might be. Mostly laughter, the occasional shout of excitement, and not a single scream of terror.

Almost.

Around three in the afternoon, when the father was crouched over the fire pit with his oldest (the sullen Junior Goth) and the mother was down by the docks with three others, the relative placidness of the scene was shattered when the oldest girl screeched loud enough to knock her father off balance before she took off in the direction of the stray sister who was stomping viciously on the ground by a blackberry bush.

They couldn’t make out what she was saying but whatever it was, she was angry. She shoved her sister away from whatever had incurred her wrath and scooped it up off the ground. 

And began stalking in their direction. 

Oh dear. 

He painted a smile on his face and hoped that whatever was about to happen, it wasn’t going to involve the father. 

Oh dear, again. It was going to involve her father because he was following her.

“Hi,” the girl said to them without ceremony. “My sister is stupid and was trying to stomp on this frog because she said it bit her. I'm going to put it here. Don't hurt it, okay?”

Her voice and face, though young and earnest, would brook no opposition so without even thinking he replied, “Of course.”

“Thanks.” Short, to the point, and she’d sat the frog in her hands down and walked away before either of them could get another word in. She passed her father on the return trip but just shrugged at whatever he said to her, entreating with his arms extended but still getting nothing in return.

He was even bigger up close, they realized as he approached, extending a hand and offering them a charming smile. At least they hoped that was a friendly smile because if it wasn’t it was a sign of aggression that meant they would both be dinner very shortly. 

Not that either of them would complain. No one had any right to be built like that and be that handsome at the same time. There ought to be a law….

“I’m so sorry. She didn’t bring you a snake, did she?” His laugh was forced and later on, they would wonder if there was some reason that he asked about a snake first.

His husband recovered his power of speech first, shaking hands and laughing, “Oh no. Just a frog. I doubt he’ll eat much.”

“Thank fuck,” the man replied, shaking his head. “Sorry again. We’ll try not to intrude anymore.”

“No worries. Happy to help troubled wildlife,” he replied with a smile he hoped was polite and not too strained. Like this man’s sweat-damp shirt over his chest. 

Oh dear, indeed.

With a nod the man turned and walked back to his brood where the tension between the two anguing girls was almost visible in the distance between them.

The two still had no appearance of having made up their fight by the time the family sat down to dinner, but to their credit, neither parent seemed to push the issue. Of course, they probably didn’t have time between trying to convince the Lake Monster (what they were now calling the girl with the flippers) to take off her dive mask to eat and Mud and Puddle (the twins who somehow seemed to have half the forest floor and a good portion of the lake stuck to them) to not rub their food on the ground before eating it.

They chuckled between themselves that the family must not be real at all as Junior Goth and Bush Killer were assigned dish-duty and were giggling and talking again by the end of it. The fact that even the smallest of the family had chores to do after dinner, handed out in calm tones their Mom and carried out with no sign of whining only added to the surrealness of the scene at the camp next door.

Truth be told, when the family began to wind down for the night, the couple found themselves missing the amusement of their endless motion, constant voices, and general good humor. They decided that night that parents of so many children must truly have eyes in the back of their heads to have all of them survive a day in the woods.

And they must have a great deal of faith in their children’s ability to sleep through the night in a strange place to be slipping out of the tent near midnight to christen the picnic table, the dock, and an obliging tree. 

“Perhaps at the next camping trip, there will be six of them,” he’d snickered behind his hand. His husband swatted his arm, but was fighting back laughter as well.

Mornings at camp come early no matter if you are a party of two or twelve and when it is your last day, you tend to get an early start. Packing everything back up always seems to take longer than setting it all up and nothing ever fits back into the car quite the way it did before..

Still, even with all they had to do, they couldn't help but be fascinated again in the neighboring camp. Up and moving with alarming speed, breakfast seemed to be a situation of ‘get it when you are hungry enough.’ Neither of them would have expected this to work well, but it did with Mom’s management and Dad’s eagle eye for who was covered in crumbs and who wasn’t. 

Lake Monster and either Mud or Puddle were on dishs, the other twin given charge of putting out the fire with Dad’s help to carry the water bucket. Junior Goth had disappeared into the tent on some errand and Bush Killer was on trash duty. Mom bagged up the scraps of food into a waste bag strung up a tree, then called something about the lake that sent all the kids shouting into the tent.

And streaming back out again in bathing suits and high spirits, sprinting for the shore in a mass of inflatables and life vests.

Mom and Dad followed at a slightly slower pace, but not by much. As they were shoving the last of their equipment into their car, they had to laugh along with the children. Dad had hoisted Mom into the air and tossed her, shrieking and flailing, into the lake before hurling himself off the end of the dock creating enough of a wave to flip the Lake Monster and Bush Killer off their floats.

“I hope we have that someday,” his husband said as he started the car.

“You want five children, now?” Surely not.

He laughed, “Of course not! We already agreed one would be enough. But,” he said, casting him a sidelong look, “You have to admit that sort of life - the bond and everything….” He trailed off.

He looked out the front window of the car to see the line of wet children, giggling and yelling as their parents swung them, Mom at the arms and Dad at the legs, off the end of the dock into the lake. “It really is wonderful."

**Author's Note:**

> So. Here's the cheat sheet for who's who!
> 
> Junior Goth: Caris, 11. It's just a phase.  
> Bush Killer: Laurea, 9. The frog did bite her but only because she poked it with a stick.  
> Lake Monster: Beatrix, 6. She keeps the mask on because "Cheese is smelly!"  
> Mud and Puddle: Antonia and Octavia, 4. If cleanliness is next to godliness, these two are only setting realistic expectations.  
> Conceived on the dock, probably: Urs, arriving in 41.5 weeks. Late as always.


End file.
